Cybernautics
by Alcaknight
Summary: Brash detective Jack White is stuck working traffic control. One day he's sent on a case that exceeds his abilities, is this finally his chance to prove his worth?


In the corner of the room sat a man hidden by a thick cloud of wispy smoke, he wore a fedora of some kind, and a long, brown overcoat upon his shoulders. His eyes were sharp, and focused. And while he had many wrinkles, he had a certain air of vitality about him, one that was cleverly hidden.

He held a cigar in his left hand, and lightly tapped it against an ashtray when suddenly, a stack of papers came crashing down onto the desk. The man looked up as a woman in her mid-twenties stood before him, she had golden hair which was neatly tied up into a ponytail, a pair of thin glasses hid her eyes, and her mouth was firmly closed, as if she refused to show any signs of emotion.

Suddenly, she spoke up, in a clear voice that struck like a whip.

'Jack. Jack White,' She barked, 'I thought I told you to sort these papers out yesterday, and what's that?... have you been smoking?!'

'Now listen here, baby doll,' he said mockingly, 'I don't have time for all that baloney, that's what you pencil pushers are for. Leave us detectives to actually catch the criminals.'

'Indeed, but you never actually do that in the first place, do you?' Her tone was biting, and lashed out at Jack.

'Whoa honey. I ain't got no beef with you; you're pretty uppity for a bird, ain't ya?' He struck his cigar against the ashtray yet again.

'I'd rather you not call me that, Mister White,' She pushed her glasses up, and looked at a small sign on Jack's desk, 'Remind me again, what branch are you in?'

'Cybernautics.'

'That's traffic control.'

'Well baby, someones got to do it. It's an important job y'know. Without traffic control the streets would be in chaos.'

'Just get the papers done, Mister White. I've quite had enough of your idiocy for one day' She shouted, spinning her heels towards the door, before storming out.

'Crazy bird...' Jack exclaimed, shaking his head before sighing loudly.

Jack momentarily looked at the papers, before picking them up and hurriedly stuffing them in a nearby draw — as he did this a small bleep emanated from his pocket, before a voice suddenly projected itself.

'Calling all nearby officers; we have a car crash eastbound of highway 224, respond immediately, over'

Putting aside his cigarette Jack leaped towards the door and swiftly exited the building, luckily for him he had left his car parked nearby. He wrenched the door open and started the engine, which suddenly ignited and roared with life, the car begun hovering above the ground, spinning the vehicle around, Jack began to make his way to the incident.

The world passed by him in a blur — and eventually, despite his careless driving, he arrived in one piece. Finally, Jack thought, an actual job. Usually he'd spend the entire day sorting through paperwork and doing nothing. In the centre of the scene lay a wrecked car which had embedded itself into the side of a nearby building. Several officers turned around and noticed his presence.

'Ah, Jack White,' one man said formally, before approaching him.

'Are you the one in charge around here?' Asked Jack inquisitively.

'You could say that, we appreciate your help'

'No problem,' Jack replied, lighting a cigarette.

'If you don't mind, I'd like you to collect prints, and any other DNA you can find,' he paused briefly, 'The fusion coils have been deactivated, it should be safe enough for you to investigate'

Jack thanked the man, and made his way towards the vehicle, sure enough it looked safe. He took out a pair of leather gloves from his pocket, and carefully opened the door. Nothing struck him as odd at first glance, from a crash so severe he would at least expect there to be some signs of blood.  
That left two options, he thought — either there was no-one driving the car in the first place, or somebody had cleaned up any evidence before they got there.

Jack approached the officer he had met earlier, and begun to explain the situation.

'So, either two things went down. There was no-one driving in the first place, or someone decided to clean up the mess,' he paused briefly, 'of course, perhaps the driver sustained no injuries at all, but from a crash like that, it's unlikely.'

The officer merely nodded in agreement; there was a short moment of silence, before a voice came through his radio yet again.

'Jack, how are things going along?'

'Not too good sir, we can't find any traces of DNA, we've got no leads whatsoever.'

The voice from the radio paused briefly, before speaking again.

'Well, we might have some good news for you,' He said pleasantly, 'we've successfully tracked down the licence plate. The owner of the vehicle lives just a few miles away.'

'Great, send me the co-ordinates' Jack replied, before hearing a beep from his car nearby. He entered it and checked the satnav, sure enough; he had been sent a set of co-ordinates.

Jack suddenly spun the car around, but neglected to remember that he had placed a cup precariously on the dashboard earlier. Then he smelled coffee. Hot coffee. Piping-hot coffee… Piping-hot coffee which covered his loins. He swore loudly and madly patted his trousers, but it was too late. The damage had been done.

Jack raced through the air, still suffering from the effects of his little 'mishap'. How was he supposed to remember he had left his coffee there? No matter. It was too late now. He could only sit as he felt an excruciating pain shoot through his legs. Several moments passed, until he eventually came to a stop near a block of flats, he made sure the car was parked correctly, then hobbled outside.

Each step sent a jolt through his legs, up to his groin, which painfully rubbed against his trousers. He couldn't recall a time when he had been in so much pain. After several more steps — which felt like an eternity, he finally reached a plain wooden door. He rang the bell. No answer. He rang again. No answer. He rang a third time, and then frantically, several times more. Much to his relief, the door finally swung ajar. A man stood in the passageway; he wore simple, ordinary clothes. This was someone, Jack thought, who had no regard for fashion, or rather, appearance in general.

Jack was about to speak, when he received a painful reminder of his injuries, he would have to do something about it first.

'Excuse me,' he said, hurriedly, 'you wouldn't happen to have some ice would you?'

The man was slightly taken aback by his request, who was this strange man who suddenly turned up on his doorstep asking for ice?

'Sure, come right in,' he said, ushering Jack inside. He couldn't exactly just turn him away, the man appeared to be in pain, the least he could do was help.

Jack stepped inside, the warmth of the room soothing his chilled bones. He found the flat modest yet cosy; it featured beige coloured walls which gave the room a warm glow, hung upon them were an assortment of paintings. All of the classics were there: Van Gogh, Picasso, even the great Leonardo da Vinci. He admired them for a short moment before moving on.

Eventually he ended up in the living room, like the rest of the house it was, well, normal. He took a nearby seat by the window.

'About that ice…' Jack said curtly.

'Oh… right!'

The man suddenly scuttled into the kitchen, then produced a large bag of ice. He was met with a relieved expression upon returning to the room.

'Is this enough?' he said, notably struggling with the bag.

Jack merely nodded and stretched out his arms, desperately grasping the bag of ice. He breathed a heavy sigh of relief as the pain began to fade away. The owner of the house, who was now standing in the centre of the room, was still unaware of why this man had intruded so suddenly.

'So, what brings you here?' he said, trying to make sense of the situation.

'Hang on,' replied Jack, who was still tending to his injuries. A few moments passed and Jack continued.

'Right, I'm a detective you see. We tracked you from the registration plate of a car we're currently doing investigations on.'

'A car?' asked the man, he looked slightly taken aback.

'That's right, it's pretty wrecked. Would you believe, we found it sticking out of a shop earlier this morning'

Jack paused, then remembered something important.

'Hang on, that's right. We haven't exchanged names yet, where are my manners?' Jack pulled out a badge from his side pocket, 'the name's Jack, Jack white.'

'Robert Mayers,' answered the man, who scratched the back of his head.

'So, about that car…'

The man shifted uncomfortably, he obviously had something to hide.


End file.
